


Battle Of The Catacomb

by JensonLevi



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Amputation, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Battle, Constructive Criticism Welcome, Epic Battles, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Not Beta Read, Templars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 17:14:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11212572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JensonLevi/pseuds/JensonLevi
Summary: This is my life now, Malik reminded himself, I can no longer hold my love properly, but I can try my best to love him with everything I have.





	Battle Of The Catacomb

**Author's Note:**

> SHAMELESS SELF PROMOTION!
> 
> Check out my original story: Calamity Zero.
> 
> https://www.wattpad.com/439380219-calamity-zero-prologue

The clashing of weapons echoed loudly in the under ground passages. Swords and shields, daggers and fists. Templar and Assassin's alike fell like leaves to the ground with blossoming crimson liquid flowing out of freshly made orifices. Gasps for air along with moans of pain as steal and iron penetrated soft tissue and ripped through sensitive flesh. The corpses of fellow comrades would be buried by dawn, wife's, mothers and children will mourn their loss.

"Left flank!" A cry from a Templar Commander, "no assassin is to be spared!"

"Don't let them pass into Masyaf!" An assassin called, but the words were jumbled and lost with the singing of metals clashing and the chorus of agony filled screams.

A dark skinned Syrian man backed up against the wall, clutching his arm with a deep gash exposing muscle and bone. He covered it with his hand to slow down the bleeding. With no weapon to protect him, he tried to stalk away slowly to the doctors, hidden away in the catacombs. His breath was labored, his eyes dilated quickly as he tried to find a quick excite to the doctors hiding place. Stop. The Syrian gasped quietly looking down to his feet. His ankle was grabbed. A comrade held his chest, but there was no mistaking the obvious wound embedded into his body. "Please, when you make it out, tell my wife I love her." His grip loosened as his life vanished from his container, his body. With a heavy heart, the assassin pushed on, his arm stinging insanely and his body shaking as he was slowly going into shock. If the wound and infection didn't kill him first, shock certainly will.

Seeing a comrade die in front of him, made the man realize he didn't have that long to get help. If he kept up this pace, he would never get to the infirmary. Picking up his feet, the Syrian man moved as fast as he could in the dirt filled catacomb, sandstone holding the walls together and roof sturdy. His robes pressing against his bloody and spent body and he ran. The sand from the ceiling fell down, dusting his assassin's robes lightly. His feet picked up the carpet of sand and they lifted in a sequence. The clashing sounds echoed downward by the time the assassin made it to the hardly noticeable opening in the wall. Sweat was dripping down his forehead and neck, dripping from his chin and running down his back. The doctors faces grew pail as they slowly pealed away his assassin's robes.

"Remove your hand," he said gently. The Syrian slowly removed his cramped and bloodied fingers from his mangled arm. Crimson fluid blossomed, running down from the wound and onto the rug that lay for the patients. Maybe twenty other men and women waited to be treated, trying not to make too much noise to give them away.

It didn't take long or the doctors to get to work. With in a matter of minutes the man was rushed to be tended to.

~*~

Although the sun was blocked from all view, the battle stayed at a stand-still. The ghostly night brought with it deafening silence. No one made any noise but of the sound of breathing and the soft sniffles of loss of their comrades. The men rested for the night as they knew they would need it for the morning on the return trip to Masyaf, carrying their fallen comrades home for their families and give them a proper send off into the afterlife(if such a thing existed)

The assassin's knew this battle would be over by dawn. Select few men were chosen. By dawn all Templar in the catacomb would be slain.

~*~

"I was so worried you wouldn't come back to me." He knew he shouldn't be so active at that moment, he should take things easy until he was healed, but, with how much blood he lost he was thankful he was alive, thankful he could be with his lover once again. His lips smashed against his lovers, full force, wanting nothing to separate them.

"Malik, stop," his lover pushed him back gently, "I love you, we almost lost one another, but you need to take things slowly," he finished, adjusting his tunic. Malik's arm-or what little there was left of it-was bandaged well and tight.

"Altair, I need this..." Malik pushed against his lover, making the man fall onto his back. Altair couldn't fight against him, he loved the man too much. Malik's lips attached to Altair's neck. The assassin's head lulled back and to the side slightly, giving the now-one-armed man more access to the sensitive flesh. He held is breath to keep his moans from echoing out in the deep realm of darkness where their comrades sleep less than two meters away.

"Malik, wh-what if someone hears," Altair managed to say between gasps of pleasure.

"No one will hear if you stay quiet," his lover responded bluntly.

Malik pushed Altair's robe off of his body. His torso was exposed. Toned muscle decorated with deep scares littered his body, some fresh, some old. The way Malik looked at him in the almost-absent light made the butterfly's in his stomach dance.

"If you want this so badly, you must be the one laying down, I don't want you to hurt yourself or over exert your body." Altair made Malik switch their position. He hadn't ever tried to ride his lover before. Altair moved the bottom half of Malik's tunic and pulling down his trousers just enough for his erect cock to spring free. He let out a deep breath.

Altair removed his linen clothing, feeling the damp air around him. Malik's eyes wondered the body that would be his to use, his to pleasure. Altair closed his eyes, reaching under himself, pressing one digit inside of his body. He felt tighter than before. When that was loose enough he added another, scissoring his insides. Closing his eyes tightly, Altair removed his fingers.

He positioned himself over Malik, his body warm and shaking. The Syrian dropped down slightly, feeling the tip of Malik's cock enter, ever so slightly. He slowly lowered himself onto the appendage. His head lulled back as he tried to keep a groan concealed. He felt his lovers long sex pulse within his heat. Once buried inside, Malik couldn't help but thrust upward. Altair cringed, not yet adjusted to the feeling of having Malik inside of him. His callused hands placed firmly against Malik's strong chest, careful of his bandages. His body shook violently, nerves and excitement running freely through out his body.

One.. two... three...

Altair pushed his knees against the hard, sandy ground to force his body upward, moving up Malik's shaft then sliding back down. Each repetition getting faster and faster. Altair leaned forward, still moving his hips. He kissed and lapped at Malik's neck, trying to distract himself from the other men around them and keep himself from moaning or screaming out. Malik slowly sat up, looking into Altair's golden eyes, holding his hips in place. With no hesitation, he had thrust upward into Altair, trying to make him moan. Moan for the entire catacomb to hear. Altair wrapped his arms around Malik's neck, holding on tightly as his lovers hard cock rocketed in and out harder and faster with each thrust.

Altair wanted to please his lover, if at all possible. He knew how much pain he was in. Although his thrusts were powerful, they were much weaker than when they normally coupled. Malik's grip was loose and felt lopsided with only one hand. He despised the feeling of only being able to hold him with one hand. He longed to run his hand across Altair's back and pull his hair or scratch at his sweat-glossed skin. 

This is my life now, Malik reminded himself. I can no longer hold my love properly, but I can try my best to love him with everything I have.

"Malik, Malik I'm close," Altair whispered with a groan.

"Me too baby."

As if on queue, the men released their loads of creamy semen. Their chests were painted with it, much like Altair's inner walls. Altair pulled away from Malik's neck, kissing him lightly.

"I love you Malik... Don't you ever, ever, scare me so bad again." The men laughed quietly before getting up and cleaning their bodies for dirt and cum.


End file.
